


Subterfuge

by meetmeatthecoda



Series: Katarina Chronicles [1]
Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Adult Themes, Drama, F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, No Spoilers, Romance, au season 7 fall finale, mostly of a sexual nature, strong t rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: "Because there she is, his oldest friend, his greatest enemy, sitting there at Lizzie’s table like she has any right at all, with a small smirk on her face, dark and taunting, all for him."Red finally discovers firsthand that Katarina has moved in down the hall, causing things come to a head between he and Lizzie. Written in bits and pieces throughout 7A. Works as an AU season 7 fall finale. Lizzington. Strong T rating for adult themes. Part 1 of Katarina Chronicles.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Series: Katarina Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672366
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100





	Subterfuge

Red trudges up the stairs of Lizzie’s apartment building, the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from the paper bag at his side, creating a mouthwatering trail that follows his ascent.

It’s a Saturday morning and he’s bringing Lizzie and Agnes bagels for breakfast.

He wasn’t explicitly invited and, as ever, he’s taking a bit of a risk in showing up. But it’s been quite a while since he’s been to Lizzie’s apartment and they’ve been separated by work things for a few days on end, communicating only through a few terse phone calls, things still a little frosty between them in the wake of Dom’s situation.

(But Red is so incredibly tired of fighting with her.)

The bag of bagels is something of a peace offering, a tentative plea for calmer waters between them, something he is prepared to leave at her door or on her table if she rejects his presence.

(Although he’d very much like to stay. If only for a while.)

Arriving finally at her door, Red takes a steadying breath and knocks.

It takes a few moments longer than it usually does for Lizzie to open the door, long enough for the paranoid, over-protective part of his brain to send his fingers twitching towards the holster at the small of his back. But voices – plural, with Lizzie’s familiar tones chief among them – suddenly grow louder before the door swings open to reveal her.

“Red,” Lizzie says, a little surprised, her eyebrows raised on her forehead, a little breathless, his name somewhat of an exhale, a little pleased, a grin from something else fading on her face into a subtler smile.

(And oh, he’s missed her.)

“Lizzie,” Red greets, trying to keep his voice even and not completely love struck. “I brought breakfast,” he manages, raising the bag slightly at his side.

He takes it as a good sign that she doesn’t immediately frown or yell or send him away. But she does glance back over her shoulder, looking not angry, but a little uncertain.

“Is this a bad time?” Red asks, trying to be delicate, but wondering who she could possibly have in her apartment at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

(And just the idea, the _inkling_ of a man in there, perhaps sticking around from a Friday night date, lingering like an unwanted smell – especially when Red can hear cartoon noises from the TV and Agnes’s precious giggles – has sparks of rage flitting through his veins, because he will happily murder whoever it is who presumes to –)

“No, it’s all right, I’m just having some coffee with my neighbor. She’s been helping me out with Agnes.” 

His rage fizzles out as quickly as it came, a fair amount of shame taking its place. And, although he feels happiness that Lizzie has made a friend in her building – a friend outside of work – it takes but a moment for everything in him to slowly melt into a familiar sadness, heavy and hurting.

(Because it should be _Red_ that’s helping Lizzie with Agnes, _Red_ that shares her morning coffee, _Red_ that is still around on a Saturday morning for pajamas and bagels and cartoons with his –)

“Come on in, I’ll introduce the two of you.”

Red manages a nod and follows her mutely into the apartment, trying to leave his bone deep sadness on the welcome mat behind him.

(He’ll pick it up on the way out. It never leaves him for long.)

His first sight is what he heard bits and pieces of at the door: Agnes sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the TV, enraptured by her Saturday morning cartoons, occasionally giggling at the screen.

Red takes a moment to watch her, adoration and love soaring through him at the sight of her.

(She may not remember their time together, but she is still so precious to him.)

“Red, this my neighbor, Maddie. Maddie this is my work friend, Red.”

He manages to wrench his gaze from Agnes and look towards the kitchen instead, plastering a pleasant look on his face, expecting to see a young woman at the table, maybe around Lizzie's age, nursing a cup of coffee and a friendly smile.

What he sees instead freezes his blood in his veins.

Because there she is, his oldest friend, his greatest enemy, sitting there at Lizzie’s table like she has any right at all, with a small smirk on her face, dark and taunting, all for him. And rage is exploding within him once again, this time mixed with a healthy dose of fear that has his hand darting out, reaching for Lizzie, taking hold of her arm and squeezing, ready to drag her behind him at any moment. He didn’t give his body permission to act and it didn’t wait, moving out of pure instinct at the dreaded sight of her.

_Katarina_.

Lizzie glances down in confusion but doesn’t pull away and Red doesn’t dare take his gaze from Katarina. He sees her eyes narrow, honing in on his grip on Lizzie’s arm. Much less subtle than he normally is, taken so completely off guard, Red drops Lizzie’s arm like she’s burned him, moving his hand back to his side without a word, focusing on warping his face into something that’s not obvious anger and hate.

It’s difficult.

The whole misstep takes no more than a minute and Lizzie is quick to cover, trying to diffuse the odd tension now filling the kitchen.

“Agnes, would you like a bagel?” Lizzie calls into the living room. Agnes turns curiously at her name, perking up at the mention of food. She eyes them all for a moment, perhaps sensing the strange atmosphere, before she jumps to her feet and comes scampering over, staying close to her mother’s side as she peeks over the edge of the table and points to the bagel she wants.

“Say ‘thank you, Red’,” Lizzie reminds her patiently, as she cuts the fragrant cinnamon raisin bagel into quarters for her.

(Red brought those specifically for Agnes. Because he knows those are her favorite.)

“Fank you, Wed,” Agnes whispers, glancing at him shyly before hurrying back to the TV with her prize.

(Because they’re Red’s favorite as well.)

“You’re welcome, Agnes,” Red murmurs back, far too late.

(He’s far too late.)

“Maddie’s been so wonderful with watching Agnes whenever I have to work. I’m not sure what I’d be doing without her.”

(And he wants to yell, scream, cry that Lizzie’s been without her mother for thirty years, and she’s been much better off, she can’t be fooled now by this _lying_ , _manipulative_ –)

“Oh, you’d be just fine, dear, don’t be silly,” Katarina laughs lightly, waving her hand casually in the air.

And he sees red, absolutely _seething_ because _how dare she_.

_How dare she_ come here, _how dare she_ cross that invisible line, that towering wall that was erected when she faked her death and deserted them all. _How dare she_ get this close to her daughter, thirty years too late, and her _granddaughter_ , just to save her own neck.

There’s one thing that time hasn’t changed: Katarina is still as cruel and selfish as she always was.

Red can only watch in something of a haze as Katarina breaths a delicate sigh and rises from the table.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair, Elizabeth. You have company.”

Lizzie, ever the gracious hostess, politely protests. “Oh, you don’t have to leave, finish your coffee –”

Katarina smiles brightly. “Oh, I was already finished, dear. I’ll just be on my way.” She pushes in her chair, places her mug in the sink, and pats Lizzie’s arm on her way past, clearly so at home in Lizzie’s apartment that Red feels physically ill. “You call if you need anything, you know where I am!”

Her little laugh, perhaps sounding light and carefree to Lizzie, send shivers down Red’s spine. She’s showing off for him, openly bragging about how far she’s wormed her way into Lizzie’s life without him noticing and if they were alone right now, he wouldn’t hesitate to –

“Agnes, Ms. Maddie is leaving,” Lizzie calls once again into the living room, and Red watches as Agnes cries out and leaps to her feet, willfully leaving her cartoons once again to run into Katarina’s open arms, hugging her tightly around the waist.

(The sight makes Red want to cry.)

Worry for Agnes, thick and choking, consumes him, this young girl so obviously attached to her grandmother, however unknowingly. An innocent child that’s being taken advantage of, this adorable, mini version of Lizzie, who, within seconds, is back to watching cartoons in her pajamas and cat ears, happily munching on her cinnamon raisin bagel.

(And oh, Katarina is so good at fooling people, she could give Tom a run for his money.)

“It was nice to meet you...Red,” Katarina drawls, a challenge in her voice and a dangerous glint in her eyes.

She sees herself out and, as the door closes behind her, Red knows in his bones that this won’t end well.

* * *

It doesn’t.

When the truth finally comes out, as it has an intensely inconvenient habit of doing, the inevitable screaming match between them is one for the record books.

Although, Lizzie does most of the screaming.

“How could you keep me in the dark about this, Red, _of all things_?”

Lizzie is pacing the living room of her apartment like a caged animal, stepping over stray toys on the floor without looking, her eyes wet and tearful, while Red stands frozen by her couch, taking the full force of her anger.

(And what a force she is.)

“I know you have your secrets, I’ve come to accept that, but this is different, Red, you know that! She’s been in my _home_ , she’s been alone with my _daughter_!”

Lizzie lets out a bit of choked sob and starts crying in earnest now, tears falling at an even clip down her beautiful face, the thought of Katarina hurting Agnes clearly tearing her up inside.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, Lizzie, but I was just trying to protect you both!” Red pleads, talking quickly, desperate for her to understand. “It’s a mistake to underestimate her and, when she’s in danger like this, she will stop at nothing to survive! I thought the less you and Agnes knew, the better!”

Lizzie throws her hands in the air and gives him an exasperated look through her tears.

“Well, it’s not as if I didn’t have my suspicions, Red! I mean, she’s clever, but she’s not the most subtle woman in the world! And your reaction the other morning really kind of gave it away, but you knew that, so why didn’t you just confirm it? Why wouldn’t you come to me, we could have been working together! Why won’t you _trust me_?”

(Red chooses to ignore the obvious hypocrisy in this, knowing how far Lizzie has come since those days, knowing how she has made an effort to change.)

Besides, she has a point.

“If you think it didn’t kill me to leave you and Agnes here that morning, and every second after, unaware and unprotected, knowing full well she was just down the hall plotting god knows what, then you’re sorely mistaken!” He’s raising his voice now, something he never does with Lizzie, but he sees the frustration in her eyes, feels it echoing within himself.

“Then why didn’t you _say something_?" she demands, more sad then accusatory, which somehow upsets Red more.

“Because _I couldn’t_! It’s a game she wants to play with me because she knows I won’t put you in danger! If I tipped my hand, if she got even a _whiff_ that you knew the truth, all bets would be off and there’s no predicting what she would do to the two of you!”

“Well, the jokes on her then,” Lizzie snaps. “Because I figured it out a week ago, after Agnes drew a picture of their lovely grandmother-granddaughter day in the park, and the dead body she saw there!”

“What?” Red gasps, truly appalled, horror rocking through his body.

(And he’s torn between the urge to run to Agnes’s room - to hold her, shield her from the evils of the world, things she’s far too young to see - and to stalk down the hall to where Katarina lurks, kick down the door, and get his hands around her neck, because she’s _just a baby_ –)

“That’s a separate issue,” Lizzie says shakily, shutting her eyes briefly, not quite succeeding in stemming the fresh flow of tears for her daughter. “My point right now is that I did just fine hiding what I knew from Katarina! Although it’s sometimes hard to tell nowadays, I _am_ a fully trained psychologist, agent, and field operative, Red, and I think you like to forget that!”

And he sees the truth in her statement, he does. He knows of her qualifications, her achievements, and he couldn’t love her more for them. But the idea of putting her in harm’s way contradicts so fully with his only other mission in life: keep her safe.

These days, he’s finding it almost impossible to reconcile the two.

“I know who you are, Lizzie,” he says, truly pleading now, wishing she would just understand how he feels, the protective instinct that runs marrow deep after all the times he’s seen her hurt on his account. “And I know what you can do, believe me.”

Lizzie shakes her head, resuming her pacing with vigor. Red feels his skin prickle with each pass she makes in front of him.

“But more than all that, Red, I am a _mother_ , and I will do absolutely _anything_ I have to do to protect my daughter!”

Red feels fireworks start to pop and whirl inside him. He knows the feeling.

(For a daughter long ago and for the precious little girl sleeping in the back bedroom.)

“I won’t let any harm come to either of you, Lizzie, you should know that,” he barks, talking too loudly and forcefully, feeling hot and unhinged. “I will put myself between the two of you and anything Katarina tries to –”

“But _that’s_ my point, Red!” Lizzie interrupts. “I don’t want _you_ to get hurt either!”

Red stares stupidly at her, confused and frustrated. She doesn’t understand, she can’t possibly feel the protectiveness he feels for her, it’s not the same, she doesn’t –

“Why can’t you understand?” Lizzie snaps, suddenly ceasing her pacing and stepping up close to Red, mere inches from him, her frustration clear and, oh, she could be reading Red’s mind for all the words she’s taking out of his mouth, because what could she possibly –

It just takes the sight of her beautiful, passionate eyes, suddenly so much closer to him, to make Red snap, blurting out words that she can’t possibly misunderstand because it’s time he comes clean but they’re speaking at the same time, overlapping, and –

_“I can’t lose you!”_

_“I can’t lose you!”_

(And, oh, they’ve been fooling each other.)

They stare at each other for a long moment in charged silence, shocked and frozen and warm all at once –

And then they move at the same time, Lizzie throwing herself at him, her lips slamming against his, Red’s arms wrapping around her waist, hauling her against him, shuddering at the wonderful feel of her.

(Because it’s finally, _finally_ happening, all the tension that’s been pitching and yawing between them like the tumultuous waves of the ocean for years has finally imploded like a tsunami, hitting them so forcefully that they’re physically staggered by the sheer _feeling_ awash between them –)

Because they simply can’t seem to stand still, pushing and fighting to get closer to one another, knocking themselves off balance, staggering unsteadily around the living room. Lizzie’s mouth is working feverishly against his, her bottom lip slipping in between his, and Red feels wildly out of control, kissing her back with a fervor, biting firmly at her lip while working his hand into her hair to hold her in place, his jaw surging against her mouth, and her sudden desperate groan has him pulling her even more firmly against him. But Lizzie seems just as out of her mind as he is, her hands running over his neck, arms, chest in quick succession without ever really settling in one place, and Red feels electricity all over him, revels in the sheer desperation of it.

(They can’t get enough of one another.)

Lizzie’s tongue traces Red’s back teeth and he bumps against the side of her armchair. Red’s hand fists in Lizzie’s hair and _pulls_ and she stumbles backwards into the coffee table with a moan, pulling him with her. Her fingernails scrape his scalp and he grunts into her mouth as his hip clips the bookshelf. His hand slips into her back pocket and _squeezes_ and, locked together, they run heavily into an end table.

And somewhere outside of the lust-fogged majority of his brain, Red registers one of Lizzie's two-dollar Ikea lamps toppling from the end table and shattering on the hardwood floor with a loud crash.

(He feels a flash of guilt for the regrettable fate of the lamp before Lizzie rubs against his leg and gasps his name into his mouth in a way that has him mentally promising her fifty new ones before promptly forgetting something was broken at all.)

Red’s sheer inability to be anything but plastered against Lizzie’s writhing body has him steering them blindly to the wall behind the couch, and they land hard against it, Red managing to finally pin Lizzie there with a feeling of success.

She breaks away from his mouth with a ragged gasp at the collision and Red doesn’t have the presence of mind to miss her mouth; he simply moves to her neck, long and pale and straining, licking and biting with a hunger that shocks him, Lizzie’s gasps and breathy moans spurring him on.

He feels a vague shock in his chest as Lizzie’s leg wraps around his hip and, before he knows it, she’s sucking on his ear and he’s rocking his hips against hers, absolutely desperate for her and their hands are clashing at the button of her jeans, because he needs to get them off _now_ , and even if he doesn’t, judging by the flush coloring her chest and the way her brow is furrowed, she’s going to –

“Mommy?”

They rip apart, shocked out of the overflow of desperate lust by the only thing that could possibly garner their attention: Agnes’s sleepy, innocent voice.

( _Agnes_.)

Lizzie wastes no time in gently pushing him aside to rush over to Agnes, crouching down in front of her, partly to reassure her and partly to block Red’s disheveled form from her young eyes.

(And he wants nothing more than to help Lizzie calm the little girl but –

Red squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against the wall.

He needs a moment.)

Instead, he listens to Lizzie talk to Agnes.

“We didn’t mean to wake you, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Lizzie murmurs, switching effortlessly into her mothering mode. “Everything’s fine, baby, I promise.”

“I heard a noiwse,” comes Agnes’s little voice and Red feels put together enough after another moment to turn towards the sound of it, seeing her curious face peeking at him over Lizzie’s shoulder. Red smiles warmly at her, wishing she remembered him well enough to not be unnerved, feeling horribly guilty at waking the poor thing, simply because he lost control of himself.

How irresponsible of him.

“That was just the lamp, honey, it fell over,” Lizzie reassures her, tugging her slightly away from the scattered pile of glass fragments, eyeing her bare feet with concern. “How about you go back to bed, and I’ll be right there to tuck you in again, okay?”

There’s a moment in which Agnes considers this request, with all the precociousness of a four-year-old, that Red has to stifle his fond smile. “Can I have a gwass of water?” she finally bargains, timid, her eyes pleading under her bangs.

“Of course, baby, I’ll bring you one,” Lizzie agrees immediately, brushing a hand tenderly over her hair. “Go back to bed now, I’ll be right there, I promise. Watch out for the lamp, okay?”

“Kay...” Agnes turns reluctantly, a stuffed lamb held tightly under her arm, and shuffles back down the hallway to her room, giving the shattered lamp a wide berth as her mother instructed.

(What a sweet, darling, _precious_ girl.)

Lizzie waits until she’s fully disappeared inside her room before she rises and slowly turns around to face Red. As ever, he’s struck by her eyes and, for a long moment, they just stare at each other once again.

(This time, all the lines in the sand between them _thoroughly_ blown away and, god, it feels _heavenly_.)

Red decides to try and break the tense silence.

“Well,” he murmurs hoarsely, pausing to clear his throat. “It’s been a long time since I was interrupted from such activities by a child.”

It works.

They both chuckle, a little breathlessly, breaking their weighted stare, letting the tension coiled in the room ease out from between them.

Lizzie takes a deep breath and rubs the back of her neck self-consciously. “I’m going to go tuck Agnes in again,” she murmurs and Red nods easily. “Maybe when I come back...” she hesitates. “Maybe we can talk?”

Red sees the hesitance all over her face and understands exactly what she means. A real talk, with calm heads and no wandering hands. About them and their feelings. 

“I think that’s a good idea,” Red hurries to reassure her.

She looks relieved. “Oh, good…Maybe with a little less...physicality,” she mutters, grinning sheepishly at him. “Well,” and then she gives him a smirk that makes his heart skip a beat. “At least for the time being.”

(Oh. She’s been fooling him.)

Red chuckles, gazing at her warmly. “I think that’s also…wise,” he murmurs, eyeing her before parroting back her words. “For the time being.”

Lizzie grins at him for a moment before it slowly slips off her face and she grows serious. “We need to trust each other, Red,” she says quietly, looking apprehensive but determined. “That’s the only way we can beat her.”

Red stares at her for a long moment, the idea of the two of them, working together, as _partners_ , strangely more bearable than before, now that they’re…on the same page.

(They’ve been fooling themselves.)

“Together?” she asks, tentative and unsure but hopeful. His beautiful Lizzie.

Red steps forward and takes her hand.

Together? They can conquer anything.

He presses a kiss to her scar.

“Together.”


End file.
